


Velveteen

by millionstar



Category: Muse
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millionstar/pseuds/millionstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solo!Matthew. Self-indulgence in a certain suit we all know & love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Velveteen

**Author's Note:**

> I'll let this particular (filthy) photo of Matthew speak for itself:

**Title:** Velveteen  
 **Author:** [](http://millionstar.livejournal.com/profile)[**millionstar**](http://millionstar.livejournal.com/)  
 **Pairing:** Belldom  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warnings:** Smut, language.  
 **Summary:** Solo!Matthew. Self-indulgence in a certain suit we all know  & love.  
 **Feedback:** Always appreciated, but please, just enjoy.  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Muse, no profit is being made  & this is fiction.  
 **Beta/Support:** Thanks to [](http://dolce-piccante.livejournal.com/profile)[**dolce_piccante**](http://dolce-piccante.livejournal.com/) & [](http://waltzingstar.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://waltzingstar.livejournal.com/)**waltzingstar**  
for looking at bits of this for me. Y'all are the best, always.  
 **Author's Note:** I'll let this particular (filthy) photo of Matthew speak for itself:

He blamed it on the suit.

It made him feel filthy, and he liked that.

It was moments like this, moments where he could steal away for a while and be alone, that he loved the most. Carefully emptying his pockets on the bedside table, he hummed to himself. He needed this now and then; time to be able to devote his thought process to a particular person, even when the demands of his dream job didn't want to allow it.

He smirked as he laid down on the bed, still fully dressed in the blue velvet suit that he'd spotted while shopping not long ago. At first he hadn't been too sure about it but once he'd put it on and realized that it felt like a super soft second skin, he was all too happy to wear it.

With a shaky exhale, he arched his back and palmed himself through the soft fabric, the groan that he emitted nothing short of wanton and desperate. He raised his head and stared at the juncture between his legs; the thick, hot length was taking shape in the thigh of the trousers, just as it had earlier. He reckoned that perhaps the paps got a shot of him like that, his pretty cock hard as fuck in his brand new blue velvet trousers. The thought brought a filthy smirk to his lips.

He was okay with that; he had zero shame.

Fuck, he hoped they _liked_ what they saw.

Sounds from the city outside the window peppered the air, but he ignored them, too taken with the feeling of his hand still softly petting his growing erection through the soft velvet. It felt impossibly hot to the touch, probably because he'd chosen to wear neither boxers nor briefs today. He enjoyed the sensory overload, though, and pressed his palm harder to his crotch.

It was only a matter of time until he used his free hand to unbutton his shirt so that he could indulge in another favorite habit. He swallowed and closed his eyes as the same hand parted the fabric and slid across his chest, down to his waist. This motion was repeated a few times, slowly and teasingly, as he arched his back and mewled softly. His chest was practically hairless, soft and smooth beneath his fingertips. The touches he used on himself served to map out his body, tracing out routes that he'd travelled since he'd learned what his body liked the most.

He continued his carnal exploration, his hand circling his navel and caressing his waist and back up, tracing his collarbone.

Lips were licked, then opened, to welcome two fingers inside. He lapped and sucked at them softly, taking his time, imagining them in the mouth of another, of the one he held dear to his heart. Flashes played in his mind on a loop, of blond hair and smokey grey eyes, wrapped in a dedicedly masculine package, set to the soundtrack of desires and pleas murmured in a hushed tone.

The fingers fell from his mouth and made their way to their new destination; in the instant that he caressed his nipple with them he gasped at the pleasure that shot through his body. It was so stark that his eyelids fluttered against their will and he moaned. He repeated the motion on his other nipple and shuddered, marvelling at how good it felt, and at how much harder it made him.

He rubbed the throbbing flesh between his legs again, back arching as it responded beneath his touch. The desire to make this last coursed through him, but the physical need that burned beneath his skin fought it mightily and he found himself wondering which would win out.

Momentarily, he also wondered how he looked right now, and cursed the fact that there was no mirror on the ceiling of this particular bedroom. If he could gaze upon his reflection it would be that of a debauched, lust-filled male specimen. Satisfied that he was now at full length, he carefully unbuttoned his trousers and released himself, hissing as his dick slid against the velvet as it forced itself free.

He was standing tall, thick and wet; he stared at himself, one hand still tweaking at his nipples. The idea came to him in a flash, with little time to consider it fully before he had shrugged his jacket sleeve down a few inches so he could sheathe his dick in it. Biting his lip in anticipation, he tugged once, his back arching as he groaned a "yesss" into the air.

The velvet now hugging his erection was soft and yielding, creating a sensation like no other he'd ever experienced before. The fabric was now a part of this experience; no, it was critical to it, and for that reason he chose remain clothed as he rubbed one out for once. He wanted it burnt into his memory every time he wore this suit - of how he fucked his velvet lined fist so perfectly, all the while thinking of tanned, toned arms and a blinding smile.

He corkscrewed his hand on the upstroke, precome seeping into the blue velvet; he smirked at the sight of it, at the sight of soiling it so. The thought made him even harder and he sped up his stroke, crying out softly as he pressed his head back into the pillow. His free hand abandonded his nipples, drifting south to cup the heavy weight at the base of his dick; he squeezed it, causing him to cry out again, this time loudly.

He grunted. He gasped.

Intent on nothing but pleasure, he began to piston his hips in earnest, his dick sliding wetly through the velvet. He could feel himself pulsing through the fabric and while he wasn't certain if that was due to his own sheer thickness or the wetness of the velvet, he did know that it was sending him into a frenzy.

A rhythm was established now, and he adhered to it as he fantasized about the one who'd had him only two nights ago. The two of them had stolen away post-interview for a moment of privacy in an unoccupied bathroom stall, where he'd spread his eager thighs and allowed himself to be filled from behind. He could still feel his partner's mouth on the back of his neck, his partner's hand on his dick, jerking it as though his life depended on it as he was pounded into.

Most of all he could still hear the words his lover had whispered into his ear as they both approached orgasm:

_"Mine. My hot little bitch."_

The mere memory caused him to peak, he moaned, his back arching painfully off the bed. He doused his pretty blue velvet suit with his spunk, writhing on the bed as he milked his dick for all that he could. Each drop was accompanied with the kind of body-wracking pleasure that he hadn't experienced in ages. After what seemed like ages, his hips slowed and he finally managed to catch his breath.

Sated to the point of extreme exhaustion he glanced, still panting, at the iPhone he'd carefully set up when he entered the room. It was still busy doing its job. He wiped his hand and retrieved the device, pressing a particular series of keys. When he'd finished he tossed it aside and stretched. An abrupt set of giggles burst forth as he laid there, splayed out and wrecked on expensive hotel bedding.

Miles away, in the back of a hired car, another iPhone alerted its owner that it had an incoming video file.

Dominic eyes were wide; he grinned as he pressed "play".

His hand ended up between his legs approximately five point two seconds later.


End file.
